Awake
by forgetpoundgivemekoenig
Summary: "Are you scared?" "I'm alive. It's the same thing."


**A/N:**

**So yeah. **

It's been a long night and she's already on edge when Isaac sits down beside her on the bus. She makes a point to look around at all the other empty seats before her eyes land on him and she looks him up and down, pauses on his hands twisting in his lap, and then raises a brow as she looks him in the eye.

"What?"

There's something impressive about her tone of voice, something that gets even her, and he looks scared for a second. Like he honestly believes she could (and would) hurt him. She doesn't even have the decency to be appalled because right now, after all's been said and done, nothing comes close to being as appalling as the shit she's gotten herself into. It started with Peter and Jackson and now it's growing bigger and bigger and bigger. Soon it will swallow her whole and she will be forced to atone for her sins, but for now she can't seem to care that Isaac Lahey is about to piss himself with fear.

"I can move if you want." He says quickly, like she gives a damn, and she rolls her eyes. It's best to not say anything, because he needs to figure out what he did wrong, he'll never learn if she just tells him every time, "Or, I guess I should just tell you what I want." Exactly, she thinks, tell me what you want and leave. The silence goes on because, apparently, there's a big difference in saying and doing. Isaac is looking at his hands and not even looking remotely close to revealing whatever has him so nervous. She really doesn't have the patience for this.

"What?" She repeats and he flinches a bit.

"I wanted to thank you." He says in a rush and she comes up short. Why would he be thanking her? What has she done besides end up in the wrong place at the wrong time? Well, she did figure some stuff out, like the flares, but there's something wrong about Isaac thanking her. Boyd should thank her, and maybe Stiles, but Isaac is clean. He hasn't been granted any favors. Why is he thanking her? Maybe he notices her confusion because he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and looks at his feet, "For finding me."

"You were crying." She says automatically and he looks up, embarrassed, "I heard you." She adds, just in case he tries to defend himself, and his cheeks turn red. Maybe she should feel sorry for him, since not even boys like Isaac should be subjected to feelings related mortification in front of the likes of Lydia Martin, but she has no patience for boys who're afraid to cry. She also really has no patience for crying. It's complicated.

"Thanks." He looks away and she finds herself hoping he'll stay for a little bit longer. The other people on the bus, Allison and Scott and Stiles and Boyd, are all falling to sleep. Suddenly, she doesn't want to be left alone. Her hand moves to grab his wrist and he looks down, surprised, at her fingers.

"You were scared." She answers his look with something she feels she should say, "And I couldn't help you."

"I was-"

"Scared." She finishes sternly, "And I couldn't help you."

Isaac shrugs and looks uncomfortable, "I know."

She releases his wrist, "Good."

She likes the silence, but she also likes that it can be broken. Isaac sighs and she looks out the window at the motel and the neon sign, listening for the silence to break and watching for the sun to come up. She's not sure which she wants to happen first. Isaac sighs again beside her and it's annoying, but she can understand. She wants to sigh too. They could have a whole conversation in sighs alone and communicate more than they every could using words. It's just what it is.

"You found me." Isaac echoes the words and she looks at him, waiting for the next thought to come, "I was hiding." He sounds ashamed and a frown pulls the corners of his lips down. He doesn't look at her, just his hands, and she wants him to look her in the eye. If not for him to see the sincerity in her words than for her to know that he's listening. She reaches out a grabs his chin, pulls his face towards her gently, and looks him in the eye.

"It's okay to hide." She says softly and he simply stares back at her, nothing about his face changing, but his eyes flicker and dance. She thinks he might agree with her, but he only pulls away. The neon sign makes his face look pale and sunken, like he's dying or already dead. She wonders, briefly, how she looks.

"I'm used to hiding." His tone is bitter.

"So am I."

"You don't hide."

"I hide everyday." She refuses to look at him now, keeps her eyes on the back of the seat in front of them, and feels his eyes on the side of her face, "Do you really think I'm who everyone thinks I am?" She asks him casually and, when he looks away, she knows she's won. It's not the first time she's referred to herself as being fake and it won't be the last. She's not afraid to admit she's plastic, so long as she doesn't lose her plasticity because of it.

"You're scared?"

"I'm alive." She shoots back, "It's the same thing."

He's silent for so long she thinks he's gone to sleep, but a quick look to the side shows that he's wide awake. He's contemplating the back of the seat and his mouth is a thin line. She suddenly feels guilty for making him upset, especially since he only came over to thank her, and her fingers wrap around his. He remains impassive as she laces their fingers together and squeezes his hand gently, trying to convey "I'm sorry" and "Don't be afraid" in one gesture. Then, she goes back to looking out the window.

Stiles is snoring softly a few seats back.

Boyd is sprawled across two seats with his head propped against the window.

Scott and Allison are using each other as pillows.

Lydia and Isaac are sitting awake.


End file.
